Rondo of Love and Death
by Asukai Haruka
Summary: The Avarosan Princess, Ashe, strays into hell after an accident, where Death herself, Katarina, falls in love at first sight. She gives life back to Ashe, following her in an attempt to win her love. However, Ashe is entered in a political marriage with Emperor Tryndamere, one that tests every inch of her soul. Based off the Takarazuka Revue adaptation of the musical Elisabeth.
1. Prologue

**A/N: Hello! For anyone familiar with the musical, you might see a number of liberties I have taken to adapt the story. Please forgive me if they disturb you. This story is based off the Takarazuka Revue's version of this play, more specifically, the 2014 performance by Flower Troupe.  
Please review/favorite if you have an interest in seeing this story continue!**

 **Prologue**

 _Cold._ That was the first thought that sprang to mind as she slowly regained consciousness. It was absolutely freezing, colder than the unforgiving wind that shrieked over the tundra, colder than the depths of winter that turned eyelashes to ice and tore at the lungs.

 _Dark._ It was so dark, she could hardly believe her eyes were open, as if she had been cast in the depths of a solitary prison-cave, deprived of all noise and light. Fear began to build up in her chest, frenzied and desperate, yet she could not even feel her own heartbeat.

What was going on?

 _"Welcome, to the depths of darkness."_

A melodious voice sounded out from behind her, and she started so violently she fell over. Light clung to the figure like a cloak, fluttering in the faint breeze, leaving a stark outline against the clouds of mist curling at the person's feet.

"D-darkness?" She stuttered, surprised to find that her voice was still working. "What…"

Slowly, her brain caught up to her situation - this unnatural cold, this all-encompassing darkness, she had heard countless stories of it. It was a story all Freljordian children knew, that of the world of death, one that they pretended not to believe in but feared just the same.

Death, this was death. That meant that she was… she was dead.

"N-no!" She cried out suddenly, flinching back as the figure drew closer, " _No!_ "

She couldn't be dead, why was she dead, how had she died? The last thing she remembered, before the darkness enveloped her, was riding across the snow with her four favorite dogs, unaccompanied by the guards that her parents saw fit to constantly surround her with. She was miles from the castle, from the suffocating walls of Auskilde, from the rules and demands of the Court of the Freljord and the Temple of Avarosa.

Reidun had been in the lead; the strongest of the dogs in the royal kennels, she was the most reliable and fearless of leaders, an absolute beauty and the Princess's best friend. She had so much trust in that dog, she had let the reins go slack, laughing as the wind danced in her long blonde hair.

What had happened after? She couldn't remember much, if anything - a sharp crack, a whine, and the sound of the wind whistling in her ears…

The cold grew abruptly sharper, bringing her back to the present. The figure was right in front of her now, and she recoiled in instinctive horror.

 _Death._

The god was beautiful, startlingly so, with pale skin like polished marble and long silver hair like the glinting edge of a blade. Her eyes were a deep blue, so dark it was nearly black, and her lips were inhumanly gray. Beautiful, yes, but deadly - just like the ice and snow that she lived on.

In a surge of foolish bravery, she cried out, "Send me back!"

For a moment, Death looked almost startled, lips curving slightly upward in displeased surprise. She was probably accustomed to mortals denying their deaths, screaming and demanding to be given life again. The Princess wanted to gulp, to dig her fingers into her palms in an attempt to ground herself, but her body did not seem to be reacting.

Death frowned, reaching out to trail an icy hand down her cheek, the cold so sharp she could feel it even without any flesh.

 _"What is your name?"_

She choked out, "A-Ashe…"

Death's hand dipped lower, down to her shoulder, along her arm, lingering at her fingers. For some reason, she was hesitating, as if she were actually considering Ashe's sudden demand.

She leaned closer, and Ashe was acutely aware of how easily she could feel her, despite the lack of any actual nerves. Was it her soul that was reacting to this unnatural chill, trembling in instinctive fear as this… monster let out a breath against her neck?

 _"You will only forget me, but..."_ Death sounded almost _sad_ , the words so faint she could barely hear them. _"How I wish…"_

Her words trailed off, and before Ashe could react, a sudden, painful warmth flooded through her body.

Death's fingers pulled away, and she let out a choked gasp as warm air abruptly filled her empty chest…

 **Three years later**

"But, Mother…!"

"This is for the good of the Freljord, Ashe," her mother sighed, impatience creeping into her tone. "I have told you so many times, we have remained fractured for far too many years! Your marriage to the Emperor Tryndamere will, at least, bring about a sliver of peace!"

"But the bar-"

 _Slap._

Startled, Ashe stumbled back, clutching to her burning cheek with wide eyes. Her mother, usually so gentle and understanding, had never struck out at her before - Ashe could hardly even remember a raised voice in the sixteen years of her life.

Ever since the scare, where she had been fished out of the freezing water barely alive and spent days in deep unconsciousness, Ashe had been trapped within the walls of Auskilde, a prisoner within her own home. And now, abruptly, they were just going to marry her off to a man she had never met?

On top of that, he was the Emperor of Trelleby, and everyone in the Freljord knew they were not the kindest of people. They left the old and the sick to die, and the strong often bullied the weak with little to no consequence. They ran on the oldest and wildest of laws - the strong survive, and the weak perish.

Why would she want to go to that kind of place, to marry a man brought up on those kinds of rules? What would he even be like?

"Emperor Tryndamere has graciously invited us to Trelleborg to discuss the wedding," her mother continued fiercely, "I expect you to regard him and your new people with utmost respect. There will be no more complaining about the matter, have I been understood?"

Ashe felt her heart plummeting to her feet, a strange ice wrapping around her chest as she nodded mutely.

There was no escaping her fate; as the only Princess of the House of Avarosa, the only _child_ of the royal family of Auskilde, she had long expected to be married off to one of the other kingdoms of the Freljord. However, she had never, not in her wildest dreams, imagined that it would be with a _barbarian_.

Why, she would even prefer the strange, shiny-eyed witches of Manafell, in the far North, over the barbarians. At least the witches cared for their sick and respected their elderly, instead of just abandoning them to die, even if they were incredibly creepy.

Unfortunately, she had no choice in the matter, never had and never would. She could not even dress herself for the occasion - a platoon of maids had pretty much stormed her room and forcibly stripped her, choosing every article of clothing from her underwear to her coat. Staring at herself in the mirror, Ashe could hardly recognize herself; the dress was heavy and a deep shade of blue, lined with snow-white fur, the crest of Avarosa emblazoned over her heart. Her long, blonde hair, usually left loose and free, had been carefully pulled back and away from her face, which had been powdered to a shade paler than it normally was.

She was no longer Ashe, but the Princess of Auskilde, heiress to the crown of Avarosa, nothing but a commodity to be traded away for the good of her family, her kingdom, her people.

As the royal procession made its way out of the walls, Ashe found herself unable to appreciate the outside world that she had missed so desperately over the last three years. Everything was crumbling around her, leaving behind nothing but dread swirling in the pit of her stomach.

 _Cold._

There was something she should remember, some _one_ , but all she could bring to mind was a cold so sharp it burned.

 _Cold._

What was it? What was causing this unnatural chill, this icy cold that crept up her spine and took root in her heart? As the armored walls of Trelleby came into sight, Ashe wondered - was this cold going to be her salvation, or would it be her undoing?

Would this be the start of peace, as her parents so desperately wished, or would this be the beginning of misfortune?


	2. Chapter 1

**A/N: I intended to update sooner, but the emotional mess A Passage Through the Light turned me into put me out of commission for a day. Please forgive me for the lengthened wait. I hope that you enjoy the story, and please leave a review / favorite if you would like to see more!**

 **P.S for anyone who knows Elisabeth, do not worry, Katarina is not going to be half as creepy as Tod was.**

Young Emperor Tryndamere resisted the urge to sigh as yet another stack of documents were brought to him. He had never really imagined being an Emperor would entail so much paperwork, but it seemed that running a country required more signatures than he initially assumed.

The kingdom was not as lawless as it was thought to be by the other Freljordians - the strong prospered, as they logically should, but that hardly meant that crimes were condoned. Murderers, thieves and rapists, Trelleby punished its fair share of them, but the biggest issue was and always would be traitors.

Members of the army who abandoned their patrol in trying times, who tried to steal from their fellows to feed the weak with misguided "heroic" intentions, who tried to lobby for change and encourage people to stand up against the monarchy… People who turned their backs on the core of Trellian society, regardless of what their reasons might have been, could never be forgiven.

"Please, Your Majesty," a blubbering woman was bowed before him, and he spared her a quick glance as he looked over the details of the document before him - her son was on the death row for illegally taking food from the military. "My daughter is sick and cannot work, my son was merely thinking of her wellbeing… Please, show him mercy, he will definitely not repeat this again!"

His heart ached at the sight of the frail woman, her long black hair frizzy and clumped, weeping freely on the floor of his court. Tryndamere longed to pardon her child, to give him a second chance - from what the reports said, he was not too bad of a fighter, and could surely be of use to the kingdom. He had to be a good lad, if his mother was willing to travel all the way to Trelleborg to plead mercy for his sake. Should he just sit back and watch as a young boy who had meant no harm was executed?

Nervously, he glanced over at his mother - the Lady Sejuani, Queen Regent of Trelleby. While she may have retired after her husband's untimely death in battle, she still retained a lot of power over the court and her young son. After all, Tryndamere was barely eighteen years old, a child easily swayed by his mother's word.

He did not trust his own judgment enough, not that it was a fault of his - the Queen Regent had raised him very carefully, molded him just as she had his father, so she would truly wield all the power in Trelleby for as long as she lived. He had a soft heart, still, one of an idealistic youngster, yet to harden into that which gave his kingdom a bad name.

"If we were to spare every man trying to save a sick weakling, we would have no food left for our army," she said sharply, shaking her head, "How can Trelleby survive that way?"

The woman on the floor let out a horrible wail, "Please, Your Majesty, I am begging you! He is but a foolish boy, he has learned his lesson and will never harm the kingdom again…!"

Tryndamere hesitated, wavering under his mother's intense gaze. He really did not believe that the boy held any ill will toward Trelleby as a kingdom, he had merely been blinded by emotion and failed to remember the strong took priority over the weak. Executing a child who had made a stupid mistake did not seem like a good idea to him, but if his mother thought that kindness would encourage more boys to be like him… Tryndamere could understand why it was important to make a proper example of him.

For the good of the kingdom, sacrifices would have to be made. It was a difficult decision, but a necessary one.

With a shake of his head, he ordered, "Send him to the gallows, as planned. There will be no pardon. Take her away!"

"Your Majesty!" she cried out desperately, straining uselessly against the two men that grabbed her by the arms, "Please, Your Majesty, he is my only son, my little boy! He will only turn fourteen with the solstice-"

Her voice faded as she was dragged away, and it was with a heavy heart that he stamped the seal on the boy's death warrant. Indeed, he was but a child, but his mother was right - Trelleby did not become the kingdom it was now by being soft and letting little boys who committed crimes walk off scot-free.

They had laws that needed to be followed, rules that had to be abided by, and there could not be any exceptions.

"Tryndamere, my son," his mother cleared her throat loudly as she approached him, arms crossed in obvious disapproval, "What is this I have heard about you marrying an Avarosan?"

Ah, he should have expected that question to arise, for this was the first decision he had made entirely on his own.

"It is true, Mother," he said, trying to keep his voice from wavering, "The Avarosans own the most fertile lands in the Freljord. It would be of great benefit to us to ally ourselves with them."

"But an Avarosan wife?" she sounded deeply disappointed, "She will only raise weak children, bringing her customs with her."

"I am positive she will learn our ways, Mother," he protested, "After all, she will be living with us here, in Trelleborg."

"She will need to be trained," Sejuani sighed, shaking her head. "Even a witch from the North would be preferable to an Avarosan."

"Manafell has barely any resources of its own, Mother," he protested, "With all the food from Auskilde, can you imagine how strong our army could become?"

She paused, obviously considering it, but the expression on her face remained disapproving. Auskilde and the Avarosans had long been the enemy of Trelleby, and it was admittedly difficult to erase so many decades of animosity in one night. However, someone had to take the first step, and if it would benefit his kingdom, Tryndamere did not mind marrying a girl he hardly knew.

After all, she was most likely doing the same thing, accepting this marriage for the sake of the protection Trelleby could offer her people. They who understood each other would surely be able to… well, not be miserable together, he supposed. For an arranged royal marriage, that was probably the best anyone could expect.

"Your Majesty!" A knock on the door drew his attention, and he turned toward it just as the servant pushed it open. "The royal family of Auskilde has just arrived."

He nodded in acknowledgment, eagerly pushing the paperwork away as he rose, "Please take them to the main garden. I will be joining them shortly."

"Understood, Your Majesty," the boy bowed deeply at the waist before scuttering out the door. Small and skinny, he was obviously not of barbarian blood - a slave, perhaps, from one of the kingdom's many successful invasions.

As Tryndamere tidied his desk and straightened his shirt, he could feel his mother's cold gaze burning into his back. If she disapproved so clearly, he thought, was he making a terrible lapse in judgment? After all, she had been his father's advisor and the true brains behind Trelleby for the past forty-odd years.

Before he could continue fretting, Sejuani spoke, "I do not like this, but it is logical. Considering how weak-willed the Avarosans are, this could be an easy way to extend control over Auskilde."

For a moment, he hesitated - he was not trying to initiate some sort of bloodless coup by marrying the only child of the House of Avarosa, he was just trying to start a partnership between their kingdoms, a mutually beneficial one. However, if his mother thought that idea the better one… who was he, a young and inexperienced king, to protest?

She knew what was best for Trelleby, and for the greater Freljord. That was why they were invading all these little tribes, going to war with small factions and forcing them to accept their rule, because the Freljord would be stronger united, stronger under a leader who knew what she was doing. Tryndamere could only sit back and learn, and hope that someday he would be as capable as his mother.

* * *

Ashe tried not to sigh as she was ushered into a magnificent garden, painstakingly kept clear of snow and filled with nearly every single arctic flower and shrub that existed. Ashe had never really thought the tundra's vegetation beautiful, but somehow, the designer of the garden had managed to make them more pleasing than the bright, riotous blooms that foreign traders often brought with them.

However, despite the beauty that surrounded her, Ashe could not shake her sense of foreboding. That unnatural cold from before was lingering in her bones, despite the many layers of her formal dress, trailing goosebumps along her arms.

Settling into the garden chair, she kept her spine carefully straight as the servants that were scattering about offered tea and snacks, reassuring them that the Emperor would be coming along shortly.

Most of the servants were Southern Freljordian children, she noted, from their wispy brown hair and dark, narrow eyes - the rumors about the Trelleby offensive seemed to have been true.

Her heart ached for them - how horrible it must have been, to be wrenched from their families and cultures and languages, forced to be servants to the people that might have murdered almost everyone they knew. How could her parents think that allying themselves with these barbarians was a good idea?

"His Royal Majesty, Lord Tryndamere," a loud voice called out, and Ashe rose automatically in greeting, "Her Royal Highness, Queen Regent Lady Sejuani."

The severe look on the Queen Regent's face took the breath out of Ashe's lungs. She looked exactly as Ashe had imagined a barbarian to be, tall, muscular, hair hidden inside a war helmet, with fierce dark eyes and iron in her spine. Her lips were drawn in a hard, thin line, and her face was deeply marked by the aftermath of years of frowning.

The Emperor, however, looked softer - almost confused, like a young boy playing dress-up. His suit was immaculate, decorated with medals from the various wars and campaigns his people had embarked on. As her parents rose to greet the Trelleby royal family, shaking their hands and exchanging pleasantries, he quickly snuck her a little smile. Instead of comforting her, however, it only made the ice in her chest colder.

Shakily, she smiled back at him, clenching her fists beneath the puffy sleeves of her coat. As the daughter being offered up like some sort of prize, she knew how she was expected to behave, and no matter how much she hated it, she was not stupid enough to throw away her life.

There were battles that could be fought, and battles that were lost even before they were begun. If she wanted to live her own life, to be as free as she could possibly be, there were retreats and surrenders she would have to endure.

"She is a very lovely young lady," the Queen Regent was saying, insincerity dripping thickly from her voice. "Princess Ashe, was it?"

"I am honored to meet your acquaintance, Your Highness," she bowed automatically, keeping her head lowered as she felt her critical gaze sweep over her.

"You will do," she said at long last, and Ashe let out a breath she did not realize she had been holding. Turning back to her parents, the Queen Consort did not even bother to dismiss her properly - Ashe supposed she was too low in standing to deserve such a thing.

By her side, the young Emperor gave her a nervous smile, offering her a hand. "Shall we leave them to their discussions, Princess?"

Ashe hesitated, her eyes flitting between his outstretched hand and his earnest, slightly foolish expression. For a barbarian, he did not seem like the bad sort, the childish light in his eyes clashing with his broad shoulders and muscular build. Faintly, she remembered that the Emperor was not only new, but a child, just like she was.

Maybe, maybe if she went with him, it would distract her from the aching cold that was spreading through her lungs.

"I would be honored, Your Majesty," she lowered her head obediently as she placed her hand in his, letting him guide her.

"If we may be excused," he raised his voice a little to be heard by the adults, seeming to waver under his mother's gaze. "May I show the Princess around the gardens?"

"Of course, I am sure she would be absolutely thrilled," Ashe hated how delighted her parents looked, as if being accepted by the barbarians of Trelleby was a good thing.

Regardless, she supposed it was better to be wandering around the garden with the young Emperor than stared at like a slab of sub-par meat by his terrifying mother. He seemed like a nice person, especially for a barbarian, his hold on her so gentle it was as if he thought she would break if he pressed too hard. Perhaps he had been forced into this arrangement, just as she had, and wanted to make the best of it.

As they made their way silently, awkwardly, amongst the plants, Ashe could not help but let out a gasp as they approached a beautiful arrangement of plants.

"Do you like them?" he noticed, a small smile on his face as he gently nudged her closer to them, "We call them Diamond Leaves. When they are kept out of the wind, they can grow surprisingly tall."

"They are beautiful, Your Majesty," she gasped, admiring the careful way the trees had been arranged - they were flexible, usually low-growing willows that bent easily with the unforgiving arctic wind, and the designers of the garden had taken advantage of that to make them grow in wonderful arches.

"Indeed," he agreed, and out of the corner of her eye, Ashe noticed that the young Emperor was not looking at the trees - he had yet to take his eyes off her.

Was that a good thing? Ashe had no idea, but the way he smiled at her only served to make her chest ache more, as if her heart was being frozen over. But she had no choice about it, she was going to marry him, to have a physical relationship with him, so wouldn't it better if he was captivated by her?

* * *

Such a pretentious affair, she thought as she stepped through the shadows, gliding past the rows of useless, armed guards clad in too-bright armor. From the towering ice sculptures, overflowing dinner table and pompous, luxurious dresses, it was difficult to tell that nearly half of the kingdom was starving, suffering pathetically where no one cared to look.

The Princess was trying to smile at the excited, grinning Emperor beside her, trying not to flinch as he wrapped an arm around her shoulder or leaned in too close to touch her. Even without her influence, Death noted, the girl was repulsed by him - she had within her a heart that longed to soar over the mountains like an eagle, independent and free, going wherever the wind would take her.

It was absolutely intoxicating. Even now, as she stood awkwardly at the altar with the man who would soon be her husband, there was _something_ about the Princess that made Death shiver.

If only she could be the one at the altar instead of him, the one smiling and reaching out a hand to welcome the Princess. If only she were human, she found herself thinking, but if she were, she would not have had the power to bring the Princess back from the depths of darkness.

It was her curse, she mused, marveling at the way her heart twisted and ached in her chest, a feeling she had long forgotten. How many years had it been since she had last felt, since her heart had last been _alive_? She had lost count of the centuries that had slipped between her fingers; when she had been appointed the Emperor of Darkness, when she had been given the name Death, the Freljord had yet to exist. It had been nothing but a collection of small tribes in a harsh land, one whose inhabitants she received constantly at her gates.

How many years ago had that been? Two, maybe three thousand?

And somehow, that girl, that Princess - _Ashe_ \- had melted away all those years of ice and stone with a single glance, cutting through her as easily as a hot knife through butter. Even though she was just another human, just a young girl, she had disarmed Death with the fire that burned in her eyes.

Her chest twisted sharply as the couple leaned into their kiss, her insides crumbling to dust with an intensity that she had not felt since the day she discarded her name.

No, she would not give up on this love, even if the Princess was married to someone else. She could not give up on her, not when she was the one who brought life back into her cold, dead chest.

" _No matter where you go,"_ she breathed, remembering the promise she had made over the unconscious Princess, just before she had returned her life. " _I will chase after you until I have won your love."_

Even though there should have been no way for the Princess to have heard her, or sensed her, at that exact moment, Ashe raised her head and met her square in the eyes.

"Ah…!"

Was that recognition in her gaze? No, it was… _despair_ , that familiar, damning ache that those who longed to die emitted, an irresistible siren song that drew Death to them like a moth to a flame. Well, if that's what she longed for… if Death could gain her love in the moments before her life ended, that would be good enough. They could spend eternity together in the afterlife, as long as the Princess loved her and followed her willingly into the depths of darkness…

"Is something wrong, my Lady?" the Emperor asked, turning over his shoulder in an attempt to find whatever it was that caught his new wife's gaze.

Hesitantly, the Princess stumbled from her new husband's embrace, and Death turned away in an attempt to soothe her raging heart.

"W-wait!" Ashe called out, reaching out a hand - did she know who she was calling out to?

Confused, the Emperor said, "Who are you talking to, my Lady?"

Evidently, he could not see her - no one was supposed to be able to unless she so wished it. However, was the Princess special because she had returned from the depths of shadows to the realm of light?

Death refused to stop walking - it was not the right time to approach her, not while she was surrounded by so many people. She did not want the Princess to seem like a fool, speaking to what seemed like thin air.

" _Tonight,"_ she promised, without turning around, " _If you call for me, Princess, I shall come."_

"B-but…!" before the Princess could finish her sentence, the shadows swallowed Death's form, the deep purple of her suit melting into black as she disappeared.

They would meet again, Death was sure of it - the girl was screaming for her, even if she did not seem to know it yet. Would she accept it, though, that her soul was crying for the freedom of oblivion? On that day where she had emerged at the gates to the world of darkness, at some point between child and adult, she had clung to life with such fervor. Had the years that passed changed her?

Death knew how easily and quickly humans changed, they were such fickle creatures, and they went from wailing child to withered adult in the blink of an eye. Would the Princess accept her feelings, would they be able to pass into the world of darkness together?

In the shadows, she watched as the Princess excused herself after the banquet - the journey from Auskilde was lengthy, and a near-immediate wedding with minimal rest was understandably exhausting for anyone.

With a warm, reassuring smile, the Emperor had patted his new wife's hand and said, "Please rest well, my Lady. This castle is your home now, so if there is anything you wish for, do not hesitate to ask."

Swallowing thickly, Ashe had replied, "Thank you, Your Majesty."

A battalion of those kidnapped child servants were sent to escort her to her new quarters. She assumed her husband would eventually join her, once he was done entertaining the members of the court, and the very idea of it made her skin crawl. Duty or not, it was not something she wanted to do, and her helplessness raged uselessly inside her as Death emerged from the shadows.

" _You called for me, my Lady?"_

The sound of her voice made the Princess jump, not that she would blame her. Low, raspy and ominous, the whisper of death had never been a particularly pleasing sound, no matter how musical it was. After all, humanity refused to acknowledge that there was beauty in the loss of life.

"Who… who are you?" Ashe asked, stumbling back against the bed in instinctive fear.

She smiled softly, almost sadly, " _Do you not remember me?"_

The Princess paused, trying but failing to scramble for a memory that was not quite hers to have, "N-no. I am sure, though, that we have met before…"

Slowly, Death drew closer, her chest aching as the Princess flinched away from her, away from that impenetrable cold that seemed to always surround her. Dropping into a bow, she politely offered her hand to the Princess.

Hesitantly, she took it, her grip tightening for a moment as the cold hit her.

" _It is an honor, Princess Ashe."_

"How…" she gulped; her hands were trembling, and her face had gone pale. Clearing her throat, she attempted to sound as regal as possible, "Who may you be, stranger?"

Her name. Death blinked, stunned - what was the right answer to that question? For the longest time, she had been Death, the Emperor of Darkness, and there had been little need for her to be called by anything else. What had her name been, before her destiny crashed upon her shoulders and she took on the damning title that had completely consumed her?

It was an answer she did not have quite yet, not that it mattered.

" _The Emperor of Darkness,"_ she admitted; there was no sense in trying to hide it when shadows and ice radiated from her very being. " _You would know me better as Death."_

Ashe pulled back so sharply, it was as if she had been shot, terror spreading across her face as she gasped, "D-Death? Why are you here?"

" _I am here because I have been called, my Princess,"_ she replied, leaning forward to take the Princess' hand once again, pulling her close. " _You may have been dancing with the Emperor, but your eyes were searching for me, were they not?"_

"That's not true!" with more strength than Death had expected, Ashe shoved at her chest, stumbling away in a desperate attempt to put some distance between them. "Why would I be looking for the Emperor of Darkness?"

As always, mortals spat her title with a mixture of venom and hesitant reverence - after all, they knew that darkness was their inevitable end, no matter how much they dreaded it. Her chest ached to hear it from Ashe, from the girl she had broken the rules to save, but she could not do anything about it.

" _You may deny it, my Princess, but you belong to me."_

She stiffened at that, the fire in her eyes returning tenfold and sending a shiver down Death's spine. "I belong to no one but myself! Not Emperor Tryndamere, not my parents, not Avarosa, and certainly not _you_!"

Stepping forward, Ashe bravely met her eyes, so close that if she just shifted a little, their lips would meet. Frozen, Death could only stare at the young woman before her, at the hope and despair that danced in her eyes like flames in the night sky.

Pulling away with a faint chuckle, Death quickly composed herself, " _We will meet again, Princess, when you call for me once more."_

In a flutter of silver hair and the edge of a purple velvet cape, she disappeared, the shadows eagerly rising to meet her. There was no denying it, she thought, the Princess was calling out to her from the depths of her soul. If she were not, Death would not be able to teleport to her side with such ease - life, after all, was the natural opposite of Death, and they shrank back from each other if they were ever to draw near.

However, a life that longed for death was like throwing open a back door, one that Death could enter and leave by as she pleased until it was closed once more.

She could wait, immortality had taught her many lessons in patience. Eventually, she would get through to Ashe, even if she had no idea how - the idea of romance was not one she remembered, not one she had much experience with even before she had been cursed to rule the darkness.

All she had to do was be persistent, to keep coming back, until the Princess stopped denying the truth.

* * *

Sleep did not come easily to the frightened, homesick Princess that night, though to her eternal relief, it seemed that this room was set to be her own. The Emperor had not even drawn near to her that night, no one had touched the door, and the only other face she had seen was… the Emperor of Darkness, who had somehow appeared through the shadows.

Was she calling for Death, somewhere deep within her soul? For hours, Ashe had tossed and turned, worrying about it - had she accidentally owed Death a favor? Was it from the time she had nearly passed into the world of darkness herself, three years ago? Was that why Death claimed ownership over her, had she made some sort of deal to return to the world of the living for a limited time?

Why, why was Death coming after her? Everywhere she turned, she thought she caught a glimpse of long silver hair, or the end of a dark cape swishing in the shadows, and it took ages for sleep to finally find her.

Unfortunately, her relief was short lived, as she found herself sprawled on the floor of an unfamiliar room just before sunrise, her head spinning and scrambling to figure out where she was.

"Get up!" the harsh voice was like a direct slap to the face, quickly bringing Ashe to her senses. It was the Queen Regent Sejuani - her mother-in-law. "There is much work to be done to turn you into a proper warrior!"

Confused, Ashe tried to get to her feet, but she was interrupted by the Queen Regent grabbing her by the wrist and practically lifting her off the floor. Her frown was clearly disapproving as she lifted the hem of Ashe's nightdress, ignoring her yelp of protest.

"How can you do anything right when you're but skin and bones?" she growled, letting go so abruptly that Ashe was sent sprawling unceremoniously to the floor once again. "Go and wash your face, and meet me in the yard in two minutes!"

"T-two minutes?" she stuttered, eyes wide, "I cannot possibly change that quickly, Your Highness!"

"Change? Who said anything about that?" the Queen Regent snapped, slapping her so hard, she saw stars. "The cold builds character! I expect to see you in nothing but that stupid gown you're in now!"

"Mother? What is all the commotion about?"

Relief flooded through Ashe's chest when she heard her husband's voice, something she had not expected in her wildest dreams. He could surely reason with his mother, she thought, it was suicide to go out in the snow without any proper clothes on.

Rushing to his side, she hesitantly tucked herself behind him, partially pressed against his side, "Please help me, Your Majesty!"

Frowning, he pulled her into his arms, gently cradling her face with his large hands. Trembling slightly at the sudden cold, she pressed further against him as he asked, "What is the matter, my Lady?"

"Your mother…" she stumbled over her words, wondering exactly what she could say and if he would take offense. In the end, all she settled for was a pathetic, "Your mother is bullying me!"

Fortunately, the young Emperor seemed more amused than offended by that, and he gently tucked her pale blonde hair behind her ear as he chuckled, "My mother may seem like a very intimidating woman, but she surely has your best interests at heart. Just obey what she says to you."

Behind her, Ashe could practically feel the Queen Regent's smug smile as her stomach plummeted; had she expected this? Had she arranged this noisy affair to show her that she was truly alone in this castle, that the one who truly held power here was the Queen Regent herself, not her obedient, dependent puppet of a son?

No one would be on her side; here in Trelleby, she was well and truly alone.

From within the shadows, there was a flash of silver.


	3. Chapter 2

**Two years later**

Ashe had never imagined that this kind of despair existed, that she could feel any worse than she already did, trapped within Trelleborg, not even allowed to leave the castle's inner walls. Had it not been punishment enough to have her wings clipped, to be boxed inside a world she could hardly stand, forced to act like the lady she never would be? She could hardly believe her heart was still beating - was there not a limit of suffering a human soul could endure?

Despite that, she refused to die, refused to acknowledge the specter of Death that kept calling on her door, desperately denying the growing darkness in her own heart. She had to live on, she could not give up so easily, there would always be some way to work around the problem. She had grown stronger than anyone had expected, quickly morphing into one of the kingdom's deadliest archers, forcing even the Queen Regent to accord her some respect. She had become beloved to the population for her kindness, for her ability to temper the Emperor's coldness with mercy, managing to stay the executions of a number of young soldiers.

However, this was more than she could take, and she could not see any way around the problem. The Emperor was useless to her, he was but an obedient dog of his mother's, and that made him her enemy. She often had to fight against him, bleeding profusely for every single inch he yielded, much to the Queen Regent's frustration. Yet, despite knowing that, she had went to him in her desperation anyway, because what else could she do?

Two months ago, she had given birth to a daughter, their first child. Before she could even take a second look at the baby, the Queen Regent had taken her away. Strict instructions had been left to forbid her access to her own daughter, with servants and guards in place to keep her from even catching a glimpse of her baby.

The moment she had found the strength to walk, she had gone to her husband to beg for his aid - surely, as the child's father, he would understand her feelings and finally, finally stand on her side. Considering how much he adored his mother, would he deny his own child that kind of bond?

Unfortunately, all he had done was call the doctor, force her back into bed and say, "My mother will take good care of Astrid. As an outsider, you wouldn't be able to raise her the proper, Trellian way. So please, just leave it to my mother and rest."

Of course, that was what she should have expected to hear from the young Emperor - no matter what she did or said, his mother was perfect in his eyes.

Desperate, she had taken to pounding on the Queen Regent's door, to screaming and lashing out at her servants who tried to keep her away, but it had all been futile.

She still had not set eyes on her daughter, and the pain in her chest was more than she could bear. Even if her marriage was loveless, even if she hated part of her daughter's blood, she was still a mother - how could she not long for her own child?

Hunched over in her bed, Ashe resisted the urge to scream as yet another servant knocked on her door, desperately urging her to eat, to get up, to do something aside from lie in bed and wish she were dead. There was no point in trying to survive another day if the battle was already over, she was only torturing herself.

If Death came now, would she willingly sink into the depths of darkness?

The knocking grew more urgent, and she groped for her nightstand, hoping that there would be something on it she could throw at the door to make whoever it was just go away. To her surprise, she felt something cold, something metal, something that was unfamiliar yet familiar at the same time.

She sat up so suddenly that she nearly passed out, her head spinning as she groped for the strange object.

A knife.

It was a knife, the blade just a little longer than her hand, the sheath and hilt a deep, ruby red with gold accents. She had never seen it before, but its weight was perfect in her hand, and before she knew it, she found herself with the sharp edge of it pressed to her throat.

Just one move, just one move and everything would end. They could have her daughter, they could win, and she would join Death in her dark world. After all, Death seemed to wish for her, why not fall into arms that were welcoming, even if they were cold?

Suddenly, the temperature in the room dropped abruptly, and she looked up to see the shadows part yet again for the Emperor of Darkness. Despite the years, she had not changed in the slightest, still in the same impeccable, deep purple coat with silver accents, her silver hair the exact same length as it had been when they first met.

" _You called, my Princess?"_

The burning cold snapped Ashe from her reverie, and she flung the knife from her with a pained cry of her entire soul. Silently, Death knelt and picked up the knife, her expression as unreadable as always.

"What do you want from me?" Ashe cried out, collapsing on the bed with a sob, "Why do you keep coming to me?"

Death approached the bed slowly, the knife still in her hand, her fingers wrapped around the blade as if she could not be cut. To Ashe's surprise, she knelt at her feet, gently reaching out an ice-cold hand to brush her tears away.

" _You know, my Princess, that it is you who wants something from me,"_ she said, holding up the knife to illustrate her point.

In the light, it was the exact same color as the god's hair, dazzling silver that burned into the back of Ashe's eyelids. Was it a guiding light, leading her to salvation, or was it a distraction that would lead her astray?

"I…" she swallowed heavily - it was true, especially in the last two months. Wasn't death all she had been longing for? Yet, when Death herself was standing before her, knife in hand, waiting for her answer, she could not give it.

Was it alright to give up now, to go quietly, to abandon her dreams of freedom, her independence, and follow Death into the dark? Would she be satisfied, becoming the property of the Emperor of Darkness just as she was currently the property of the Emperor of Trelleby? Would she let the Queen Regent win, would she let Death win, and quietly bow out of the game?

"It is still too early to give up," she realized, looking down at Death, kneeling quietly at her feet like a cat. "There has to be something I can do, there has to be a way I can be free again…"

Death smiled faintly, sheathing the knife as she rose. Was she disappointed or proud, Ashe could not tell; she always came and left with the same expression no matter what happened in between.

" _I will return when you call,"_ she said, as she always did, giving a final small bow before the shadows swallowed her form once again.

For some reason, as the room slowly grew warmer, Ashe found herself missing Death's presence. It was strange sort of relief, knowing that there was someone willing to come when she called, even if that someone was the Emperor of Darkness. The lonely could not be picky, she supposed, especially when the only other company she had in the castle was her useless husband and his terrible, hostile mother.

She would not lose, she would not surrender, because the game had only just begun.

* * *

 **One year later**

" _You called, my Princess?"_

Over the course of the year, Death had repeatedly felt the pull of the Princess' despair, kneeling by her side as she wept.

The days had been unkind to Ashe, cutting into her soul and wearing away at her. Death could feel her despair grow, day by day, yet that fire that had captivated her refused to die out.

There were times when it got dangerously close to it, fading to embers that coughed feebly amongst the ashes, but it never disappeared.

When the Princess' mother fell ill, and the Queen Regent refused to let her return home for a visit, Death's blade tasted the Princess' blood for the first time. When the Queen Regent used the guise of training to abuse her, going as far as to break Ashe's arm, and the foolish young Emperor had only defended his mother's pure intentions, the knife lingered against her skin for so long, the blade grew warm.

Despite that, she never once gave in to the temptation of death, flinging the blade from her with a desperate cry as she clung on to life. Silently, Death watched her, unsure what to do, offering her presence as some sort of temporary solace as the light of her eyes sobbed and screamed. She wished she could do something, to twist away from the laws of the world and just rip the lives from the people who were hurting her beloved, but reviving Ashe had already landed her in enough trouble.

In the realm of life, she was but an unwelcome visitor, clinging to the shadows like a thief in the night.

Today, it was the first birthday of the young Princess Astrid, and everyone in the court had been invited to celebrate it. Everyone, of course, but Ashe herself - the Queen Regent was adamant in keeping the child from her, claiming that her Avarosan ways would corrupt the strength and purity of Astrid's Trellian blood. A large festival had been thrown, featuring numerous contests from hand-to-hand combat to archery, and the strong from all over the kingdom had gathered to participate.

Outside, the sounds of celebration drifted through the air, oblivious to the raging agony that swirled within Ashe's shuddering body.

"Death," she murmured, her hand curled around the now-familiar hilt of the knife, "Why do you keep haunting me?"

Death stayed silent, aware that there was little she could say or do to make the Princess loathe her less. She was the enemy of all life, the shadows that crept at the edges of light; how could any living creature find pleasure in her company? Death could not love, nor could it be loved, for its nature was too dark and heavy.

It was her curse, there would not be anyone who could see beyond the darkness that now shrouded her. Even she herself could not - had she not fully embraced her role as Death the day she took it as her name?

"Do I owe you my soul?" Ashe choked through her tears, her entire body shaking with barely repressed frustration. "Did we make a pact that slipped my mind? Is that why you seek me, regardless of what I say?"

" _I only come when you call, my Princess,"_ she replied almost mechanically, " _As I have said time and time again."_

"And I keep telling you that I am not calling for you!" the Princess slammed the knife against the wall, yet she still refused to let go of it, of the chance that it offered her. "I do not want to just die quietly, and I definitely have no intention of belonging to you!"

It was hard for Death to pretend that those words had not cut her, but she managed it - she did have centuries of emotionless to fall back on. The Princess could not see beyond her name and title, beyond the shadows that clung to her suit, the blades that glittered in her hair, the cold that emanated from her marble skin. And even if she could, she refused to accept what her presence meant - that from the depths of her soul, she desired to die, regardless of her strong words.

Death could not blame her.

Gently, Death wrapped her pale hand around Ashe's clenched fist, easily overcoming her attempt to flinch away. For a moment, she merely savored the touch, the warmth of another that she had long forsaken.

Uncurling Ashe's fingers one by one, Death pried the knife from her grip, pretending that she could not hear the desperate cry Ashe's soul made as it was taken from her.

"What… what are you doing?" shocked, Ashe stared at her as she pulled away, struggling to conceal the disappointment on her face. "Are you going… to kill me?"

" _Katarina."_

Suddenly, painfully, her old name burst into her mind. _Katarina._ She had been called Katarina, in the years before her curse; how had she managed to forget?

"H-huh?"

" _I am chasing you as Katarina, my Princess, not as Death."_

With that, she faded into the shadows, not giving Ashe any chance to respond.

Yes, she was Death, and all she could bring about was darkness and suffering. The Princess did not trust her, _could not_ trust her, because the role she had been given dyed her black with suspicion and hatred.

But as Katarina, as someone without titles or duties, would she be able to be loved?

* * *

 **Two years later**

It had happened again, though Ashe supposed she should have expected it to, considering how everyone in the castle seemed to be her enemy. One week ago, she had given birth to a son, a beautiful little boy with delicate Avarosan features and soft, blonde hair. She had barely a moment to hold him before the Queen Regent wrenched him from her arms, ignoring the desperate cries of both mother and son as she stalked away.

And, just as it had been with Astrid, the Emperor had been of no help at all. Grinning stupidly, he reassured her that her daughter was thriving under his mother's care, which meant her son surely would too, and that she should be grateful that the Queen Regent was handling the annoying parts of childcare so that she could enjoy her life and focus on her royal duties.

 _Asger_ , the Queen Regent had named him, a strong name for the Crown Prince and future Emperor of Trelleby.

 _Asger._ Ashe wondered if she would ever be able to call him by that name, to run her fingers through his hair, to hear him say his first words and take his first steps, or if she would have them stolen from her just as Astrid's had been.

Was there any way around this? In the years that passed, she had managed to gain the support of the people, especially the poor - kindness seemed to be an innate Avarosan trait, and no matter how much her spirit was tested, Ashe never lost it. She smiled at the weak, she greeted the elderly with respect, and struggled to loosen the strict laws in the royal court.

Last summer, she had managed to get a new law through that provided support to warriors that lived long enough to grow clumsy and weak, warriors that were so strong they survived every battlefield they were thrown on until they were unfit to fight. The Queen Regent loathed her for it, however, further straining their icy relationship.

It made Ashe's heart ache - what kind of things was such a cold, horrible woman teaching her daughter? What would she eventually teach her son, would she turn him into a monster, or a puppet just like the current Emperor?

Could she cause outrage amongst the people by bringing up how the Queen Regent was forbidding her access to her own children? But Ashe did not want to use them that way, did not want to risk them getting hurt trying to start riots for her sake. She wanted to rely on herself, to carry things through with her own strength and wit, but she was running out of fuel.

And every single time she mourned, Death - no, Katarina - would arrive, her presence heralded by that familiar knife that Ashe no longer dared to touch. She knew, deep within her heart, that if she ever took that blade again, she would plunge it into her own throat before she could even think, and that was not the outcome she wanted.

No matter how much her spirit ailed, she wanted to prevail, to show the world that she was more than a bargaining chip, more than the property of the nearest man. She had already influenced Trelleby in her own ways, leaving her mark on their history, and she was determined to do more. The Queen Regent would not win that easily, Ashe would fight her tooth and nail for every inch she was forced to give, even if she tried to break her by ripping her children away.

Even though it was getting hard to breathe, she would prevail; hadn't her parents always called her impossibly stubborn and frustratingly independent? There was no way she would lose without a fight, and if she had to go down, she would go down bloody while leaving her opponent scars to remember her by.

" _You called, my Princess?"_

This time, she was genuinely surprised by the god's appearance, nearly falling off her bed as the room temperature plummeted. The knife was nowhere in sight, and that confused her greatly - what did she want that did not involve that accursed, beautiful blade?

"Why are you here?" she asked cautiously.

Dea- Katarina came to a stop an arm's length away from her, responding with, " _What is it that you want from me, my Princess?"_

"Are you not going to offer me death this time?" Ashe asked, unable to stop herself from raising an eyebrow.

For more than three years, Katarina had constantly arrived only when her knife was present, only when Ashe was struggling to decide if she should live or die. She was the constant reminder of the despair that Ashe tried to deny, yet today… today, the day where she would most likely give in to the temptation…

She was just standing there.

Katarina smiled, and for a brief moment, she seemed almost human. " _I thought it time for a change in tactics, my Princess. Does it displease you?"_

Was she… was she _teasing_ her? The Emperor of Darkness, Death herself, was smiling at her in the depths of her despair; had the world turned on its head? When she smiled like that, when the shadows in her eyes danced like little flames, she looked almost like an angel - impossibly beautiful, incredibly powerful, and almost painfully bright to look at.

"A change in tactics?" Ashe kept her tone light, "Are you trying to win my affection? If so, a change in tactics would definitely work in your favor."

A thoughtful look crossed Katarina's face, and she brushed a strand of silver hair from her face as she said, " _Is that so? I am relieved to hear it."_

There was no trace of sarcasm in her voice, as if she had truly meant those words, and Ashe refused to think about what that could mean. She had enough problems in her life without trying to figure out Death's feelings, and her focus was on getting her children back.

Her children… how big had Astrid grown over the years, what had her first words been, where had she taken her first steps? Would she be forced to miss these milestones with Asger as well?

As if sensing the drop in her mood, Katarina drew close, her icy fingers gently running along Ashe's cheek and brushing away her tears.

" _Do not,"_ she said slowly, as if choosing her words with great caution, " _Do not think that leaving is only a move of surrender."_

Confused, Ashe pulled away - was this another attempt at her life, trying to sweet-talk her into leaving the world? Or was Katarina attempting to help her solve her problem in her own, confusing way?

" _My Princess, your beauty is a dagger,"_ Katarina murmured, slowly letting her hand fall, " _Not all wounds that bleed can be seen."_

What was she trying to say? Closing her eyes, Ashe struggled to understand - Katarina was surely trying to help, trying to tell her that she had a weapon of her own she could use in ways the Queen Regent and Emperor could not prevent, but… what was it?

How was she to wound with beauty? It was true that the young Emperor was besotted with her, though not enough to stand up against his mother or her brainwashing. Was she to target that weakness of his, was she to… to leave him?

Opening her eyes, Ashe looked up at Katarina, and the proud little smile she saw on her face told her that she was thinking along the right lines.

Leave him… could she do something like that? The people would feel horribly abandoned, and if word got around that it was the Queen Regent's hostility that drove her from the palace, would the result not be the same as publicly announcing what she had done? Would there be riots, would there be clashes both in the streets and in the castle between her supporters and those that sided with the Queen Regent?

She did not want to risk anyone… but did she have to? The answer was in the shadows in Katarina's eyes - an empty threat was still a threat, especially when the target did not know that it was hollow. Not all wounds that bled could be seen...

Ashe smiled, hope rising powerfully in her chest as the answer became clear to her. She did not have to use anyone but herself, and trust that the Emperor would be so afraid of losing her that he would grant her what she wanted.

It was an idea, even if there were risks involved, and it was better than sitting in her own despair and wishing to die. How ironic, she thought, that it was Death herself who gave her the will to live.

For the first time, Ashe reached out for Katarina's hand, startling her, "Thank you."

Katarina smiled, her voice warm and sweet like honey, " _I will always be there when you call."_

She found her voice shaking, like that of a desperate child's, "Always?"

" _Always."_

 **A/N: Please leave a review to let me know how you found the story!**


	4. Chapter 3

**A/N: Thank you so much for the favorites, follows and reviews! It makes my day to see that people are interested in this story, and I hope that you will enjoy this update.  
**

 **Eight years later**

"Mama!"

Ashe steeled her heart as her son called for her, refusing to even turn around to look at him. It was painful, taking long strides away from the child she loved with all her heart, but there was no other choice.

The idea Katarina had given to her worked perfectly - the Emperor was so besotted with her that he refused to consider a life without her. It took only one threat for him to return both her children, defying his mother's will with a stupid smile on his face.

For a brief while, Ashe was happy. Her children were sweet and, to her relief, more like her than their father, despite the Queen Regent's best efforts to corrupt them. Asger was a fuss-free, friendly baby, and Astrid, though energetic, was not quite terrible as toddlers were made out to be - she behaved in the way Ashe's mother said she had as a child. Curious, bright but gentle, Astrid's delicate actions clashed almost hilariously with her barbarian features.

In that blissful time, Katarina did not visit even once, and Ashe was surprised to find herself missing Death's presence even as she laughed with her children, teaching Astrid about the constellations in the winter sky or reading history books to a curious, eager Asger. Sometimes, as she ran her fingers through her sleeping son's hair, she found herself wondering what life would be like if Katarina was still by her side.

Unfortunately, her joy was short-lived, and it took barely four years for the Queen Regent to format a cruel revenge. Constant attacks, dangerous "training" - Ashe had to always be alert, always looking over her shoulder, and whatever soldiers and mercenaries that had been sent after her never considered the safety of her children. The servants did what they could, but they were as weak as she had expected, and could do little but bleed and die in front of her terrified children.

Despite her best efforts, Ashe knew she could not protect them forever, and the day Astrid got badly wounded in an attack, she finally made the painful decision she had been dancing around. She could not risk her own children, no matter how much she longed to be with them, and immediately, she began to distance herself from them.

It was painful not to respond to their cries, to send servants and teachers to spend time with them in her place, to reduce contact with them so they would have minimal risk of being swept up in one of the Queen Regent's dirty "training activities". Her despair and anger returned, swirling in her chest, and this time…

This time, she actively called for Death, for Katarina, begging her to answer, to make her feel less alone.

And, of course, she came. After all, Death was the only god who came when called.

While there was no quick fix this time, no magical idea that could stop the Queen Regent in her tracks, having Katarina around was an immeasurably large comfort. With Death on her side, she knew that there was no risk of succumbing to any soldier or assassin, and she often found herself shaking her head with a rebuking chuckle when an arrow that should have obviously missed found its mark regardless.

"You're being biased," she would say, and a fluttering of silver hair or the edge of a royal purple coat would be the only sign of the god's sheepish embarrassment.

Of course, with Death on her side, she knew that her children could probably be spared from the world of darkness, but that did not mean they were safe from hurt, from fear, from things that were honestly worse than death itself. She did not want them alive but scarred in more ways than one, wary of every rustle and passing shadow, and the only way to avoid that was to keep her distance.

The last few years had passed that way, hope and despair delicately balanced on a knife's edge, the god of death herself granting her the strength to stay alive.

However, today, there was a much more pressing matter than the Queen Regent's attempts at assassination. She had heard, both from Katarina herself and the raven that had come from her homeland, that her parents had perished tragically in an accident out on the sea ice. Without any other heir, as Ashe had been an only child, she was now the Empress of Auskilde, heiress to the Temple of Avarosa, and her husband and children logically would inherit similar titles.

Leaping on the opportunity to expand Trelleby's twisted influence, the Queen Regent had insisted on a fancy crowning ceremony in Auskilde, where they would also announce the change in law to follow Trellian customs. The Avarosans would not be pleased about it, Ashe knew, but they were a peaceful, quiet people that would not be able to resist the Queen Regent's army.

Auskilde would suffer, just like the weak in Trelleby, and there was little Ashe could do about it. Despite all her campaigning, she had achieved little against the rigid royal court, even though she had won herself many supporters among the citizens. She had managed to ease the lives of those who had shown strength once, introducing the concept of gratitude into the court, but she could not find a way to make them feel that the wellbeing of those who had always been weak was of any concern.

What could she do now? She could hardly even protect her own children; she had to ignore the desperate cries of her son as the servants stopped him from chasing after her. She had to linger outside the doorway to her daughter's bedroom as a servant read her stories, aware that if she entered, she would bring the shadows of the Queen Regent's hatred right into her daughter's sanctuary.

There had to be a new angle, a new dagger she could use, or a new way she could utilize the ones she already had, she just had to find it…

"Mama…" he sounded so crestfallen, as if he blamed himself for how cold she was to him, but she could not turn back.

She loved him too much to drag him into the pointless war she was waging against the Queen Regent. Astrid, on the other hand, took the distance in her stride - fiercely independent, she reveled in her newfound solitude, using her free time to do whatever she wanted. It warmed Ashe's heart to see her daughter so happy, even with minimal attention from either parent, but Asger was the opposite.

He craved his parents' attention, and since Tryndamere rarely gave him any, his mother was all he had left. And now, for a reason he could not comprehend, he was losing her too.

"My poor boy..." she murmured, wishing she could take him into her arms and just pretend the rest of the world did not exist.

However, she had no such luxury. She knew how tensions in Auskilde were reaching a boiling point over the presence of Trellian soldiers on their soil, she knew how they felt betrayed by her, as if she had willingly sold them to Trelleby. Reports had come in of a huge, hulking bear of a man that had been defending the weak and the young, fiercely declaring that Auskilde followed the will of Avarosa and only the Empress Ashe herself could tell them what to do.

The poor, misguided man, Ashe thought, blindly and desperately placing his trust in her. She could not stand up against Trelleby any more than he could, she had been given to them as a bargaining chip and her power and influence in the court were minimal.

Her husband would only bend so far to accommodate her, still blindly devoted to his mother, and the rest of the Trellian royals and nobles loathed her for her foreign blood, weak ideals and strange culture. She was boxed in, as much as she had been before, and there was little hope in achieving anything of substance.

As she approached the royal carriage, the door held open by her smiling husband, she felt a familiar cold settling in her chest, a silent promise. Death would be there for her when she called, no matter how far away she went…

It was a strangely comforting thought.

* * *

A new door had been opened in the castle, Death could feel the familiar pull of its sweetness. Over the years, she had felt it grow, a hesitant seed that had just blossomed into a fierce thicket of unforgiving thorns.

Who was it, she wondered, playing that siren song of despair? Who was it that was screaming out her name, desperate for solace in the arms of eternal darkness?

Closing her eyes, she followed it, letting the melody drag her through the shadows and into the light.

"Mama…"

She froze as she heard that pained, little voice - it was one she had heard in passing as she watched over her Princess. It could not be, but it was: the one crying out for her was closer than she thought.

The Crown Prince, Asger.

"Mama, why did you leave me alone?" he whimpered, curled alone on the floor of his vast nursery, surrounded by toys that provided him no company. "Did I do something wrong?"

Lonely, he was so lonely, and the poor child blamed himself for it. Death could sense it, feel every painful inch of it, and she wondered if she should warn the child's mother of how much pain he was in. The servants were no good company, they just did as they were told and little else, leaving the boy lonelier than ever - he often spent weeks without any meaningful interaction or conversation.

"Is it bad for me to be with you?" he whispered, hugging his knees; it seemed that the servants had told him he was only a distraction to his mother, like a foolish cat twisting underfoot.

If only he knew how much his mother loved him, how fiercely she wished to protect him… but he was far too young to understand, and Katarina was sure that Ashe would not want her son to grow suspicious and hard against his own grandmother. It was illogical, trying to shield the boy from the true nature of the Queen Regent, but it was not Katarina's place to speak out against it. She was a bystander, a silent god watching the pointless games of mortals, and she knew the rules prevented her from directly interfering with any light that did not come to her first.

In the past, that had been Ashe and only Ashe, but now, it included her young son, a boy too young to even understand what his heart was crying for.

"It's cold," he whimpered, his voice echoing a little in the silent room, "Please… don't leave me by myself…"

Slipping from the shadows, Katarina spoke, " _You are not alone, little one."_

He jumped, scrambling to his feet and staring at her with wide eyes, "Who are you?"

Of course, he was afraid - anyone would be, if a stranger were to appear out of nowhere. However, he seemed too young to really be aware of what she was; the unnatural shade of her hair, the paleness of her skin, the way her edges of her suit seemed to dance in and out of existence, none of it really caught his attention.

" _A friend,"_ she reassured, gently holding out a hand to him. " _Should you call for me, I will come."_

Unable to contain his excitement, Asger ran up to her, clutching her hand in both of his, "Really? You'll really be my friend?"

Her heart ached for him, an innocent soul caught up in a war that he had nothing to do with. Even though she had welcomed younger, sweeter children to the realm of darkness, he was different - was it because she loved his mother more than anything else?

" _Of course, little Prince,"_ she bent down to meet his eyes properly, the shadows in his eyes dancing in a way she did not quite like.

He was not like his mother, he did not have that indignant fire that kept her going throughout all those difficult, painful years. Death recognized the way the darkness shone in him, even through his wide, childish smile. Asger had not been granted the luxury of a stable childhood, and the shaky foundations of his mind would come back to haunt him.

Would she be able to save him, or would she be forced to grant him what he desired, just as her job dictated?

"Have you been outside the walls?" the boy asked her suddenly, his tone painfully earnest.

" _I have,"_ she replied, wondering where he was going with this. Did he want to hear stories of the world beyond Trelleborg, where he had been contained, or the world beyond the icy cold of the Freljord? Would he be entertained by grand tales of adventure, the way children normally were?

To her surprise, Asger wrung his hands and looked up at her with nervous, worried eyes, "Is it true that the people are suffering?"

Katarina blinked, slowly considering her options. Did Ashe want to hide the cruelty of the monarchy from her son, too, or was it fine to tell him the truth? Was he too young to know what was eating away at his kingdom, to understand the pain that the citizens were experiencing? She did not want to add to the boy's despair, even if it was what her job entailed - Ashe loved him, and would be heartbroken if he died.

"Mama told me," he added quietly, "I saw a lady come to see Father, and after she was taken away crying, I asked Mama."

So this was a truth she allowed her son, Katarina thought as she rose. Touching the boy's arm, she asked, " _Do you want to see for yourself?"_

Hesitant excitement blossomed in his ice blue eyes, "Can I really?"

Katarina nodded, pulling the shadows tight around them. He was not quite properly dressed for the cold outside the castle, even though it was summer, but it was easy enough to disconnect his physical body from the world. It was what she intended to do, anyway, to prevent anyone from seeing or harming him, in case he were to do something foolish.

" _Prepare yourself,"_ she warned, and with that, they sank into the icy embrace of darkness.

The shadows welcomed them both without hesitation, carrying them along the heavily guarded halls and out the front gate of Trelleborg, until Katarina commanded they release them once again.

The stench was the first thing to hit them - the heavy smell of sickness, dirt and despair mixed together in the icy air. Asger gagged, clinging nervously to her trouser leg as he looked around, eyes growing wet with tears.

Slumped motionlessly against a wall was a young woman, pale and obviously sick, her desperate young son trying to warm her up with his little body and pleading for her to stay awake. Not far away, a skinny young man with only one arm was rifling through the garbage, searching for scraps that he was not likely to find. Darting in and out of the various alleyways were a myriad of children, many of them orphans, scrambling and fighting for anything they found that could be of any use.

Asger was, understandably, absolutely horrified, tears streaming down his cheeks as he whispered, "Is this… is this what Mama meant?"

It was definitely worse than he had imagined, not that a sheltered young Prince would really be able to picture the extent of suffering his poorest citizens endured. He had never gone without a meal in his life, they were always warm and filling and ready for him when he wanted them. He had never been freezing and homeless, desperate for a place out of the wind and snow, for his warm bed was always waiting to receive him. Despite that, he was trying, he was hurting, and it surprised her.

" _I believe so, little Prince,"_ Katarina replied, gently pushing him forward. " _Go, seek the truth for yourself, with your own eyes."_

Nervously, he stepped out, clearly wondering if he would be targeted for his clean clothes, his well-kept hair and healthy body. Once he noticed that they did not seem to be aware of him, the little Prince grew braver, stepping into houses and poking around piled debris that seemed to serve as hiding places for arctic stoats and other small, hungry animals.

The more he saw, the more despair he felt, and Katarina was taken aback by how much someone so young cared for others. Constantly, he turned to her, asking if there was any way he could bring the plentiful food and luxurious clothes from the castle to these people, despairing when he realized that his father had explicitly forbidden it.

"Can't you sneak them out, like you did with us?" he pleaded.

Unfortunately, she could not, even if she wanted to help. She could not delay death, only hasten it - what she had done to Ashe had been a taboo too big to ever risk doing again. The rules of life and death existed for a reason, and if she went around flippantly breaking them, she would have to be destroyed for the sake of balance.

" _Only the Emperor can change this,"_ she told him, " _But your father refuses to send help to the weak."_

"But, they're suffering…!"

" _They are,"_ Katarina acknowledged, resting a hand on his shoulder, " _And as the Crown Prince, you might someday be able to save them, when you become the Emperor."_

Asger's eyes widened at that, hope flaring so suddenly in his chest, it nearly severed his connection to the shadows that protected him. "I will save them, I promise!"

* * *

Lingering outside the hallway of her son's bedroom, Ashe listened silently as her son interrogated the servant putting him to bed, demanding to know why more was not being done for the suffering citizens of Trelleby. She was so proud of him, her kindhearted little boy, and wished she could embrace him and reassure him. However, she knew it was not a good time - the Queen Regent had been aware of what Ashe had been doing, keeping her children out of their fight, and was waiting on the moment she could drag them back in.

A familiar cold tugged at her chest, and she whirled around to find Katarina, tall and regal before her, expression flat and cold as if carved from stone.

Panic rose in Ashe's chest - was she here as Death, was she here because she had business with Asger?

"Stay away from my son," she hissed, shifting to put herself between Katarina and the door, even though she knew it would not do anything to stop her.

" _I am not here for your son's life,"_ Katarina raised her hands in what seemed like surrender, " _I have been called."_

Ashe relaxed a little at that, reaching out for her hand as she asked, "By me?"

Katarina looked almost startled as she nodded mutely - it seemed that physical contact was not something she was accustomed to receiving, not that it came as any sort of surprise. She was the Emperor of Darkness, and that title obviously did not come with much warmth or appreciation. Who would be foolish enough to reach out for Death?

 _Me_ , Ashe thought as she leaned into Katarina, feeling the unnatural chill of her body fanning out against her skin. She trusted Katarina, she trusted Death, because she had been the only solace in the hostile whirlwind that had been her married life. She had fought alone for so many years, would it be alright to try relying on someone else now?

"Will you please help me?" Ashe pleaded, subconsciously entwining their fingers, "I need you."

Katarina gulped audibly, an unexpectedly adorable action from a deadly immortal, " _If it is a wish I can grant, my Princess, it will be so."_

"My people are suffering," she said, trying to keep her voice from trembling, "Is there some way you can help them?"

For a moment, Katarina was silent, thoughtful - was it something that was within her realm of control? It was probably too selfish of her to ask Death to delay the deaths of so many people… that is, if it wasn't against some giant godly rulebook in the sky.

" _It is a wish I can grant,"_ she finally said, much to Ashe's surprise, " _To end one's suffering without decreasing death merely requires passing that suffering to someone else."_

Again, with those cryptic words - were immortals required to speak like that, or was it just some sort of quirk of hers? What exactly did Katarina have in mind, was it something she even wanted to ask about? Was it a fair trade-off, hurting people she probably did not know for the sake of those she was supposed to help?

Regardless, Katarina was willing to try for her sake, and that was all Ashe needed to know. She was willing to go out of her way to think of strange things, to bend over backwards just to grant her wish - what else could she ask for?

She flung her arms around the god's neck, "Thank you so much."

Hesitantly, Katarina wrapped her arms around Ashe's waist, resting her chin on top of her head as she breathed, " _Anything for you, my Princess."_

* * *

In the shadows of the slum, Katarina sat casually in a noisy little stall, standing out like a sore thumb amongst the other scruffy patrons in her impeccable, deep purple suit. A group of people were huddled against the far side of the stall, gathered around a single pathetic bowl of soup. While most of them were just as scrawny as anyone else in this hellhole, among them stood a single, hulking man with biceps almost as large as Katarina's head.

They were eyeing her warily, of course, she stood out too plainly for them to ignore her. And that was exactly what she wanted - they needed to come to her, to ask her what she was doing, to break the wall of light that kept her from approaching them.

"Hey, you! Yeah, you with the suit!"

Katarina smiled to herself, slowly turning around and raising an eyebrow. " _Me?"_

As expected, they trembled at the sound of her voice, unable to take their eyes off the curve of her smug smile. Ignoring the underlings, she strode up to the one with the burning eyes, the muscular man with the heart of gold that abandoned the life of luxury someone as strong as him could easily obtain.

He was vital to what Ashe was asking for, though Katarina could not guarantee any results. She was merely going to start a few sparks in the dry grass, hope for it to catch, and wait until it became a wildfire no one could stop.

" _I heard you speaking of a revolution, and I would like to offer my strength…"_


	5. Chapter 4

Seven years later

It was a well-concealed fire, one run by people who knew how to play with smoke and mirrors, and over the years, the revolution had only grown stronger. What began as a handful of people raiding military stores in the dead of the night slowly grew into a force formidable enough to attack Trellian army stations, overpowering them with frightening ease. As they grew stronger, more people joined their cause, their roots sinking deep and spreading, unseen, all across the kingdom. Dissent against the ruling family, normally whispered under the shrieking of the wind, grew into a wild scream that could not be contained.

The Emperor was losing his hold over Trelleby-Auskilde, and the nobles were growing angrier with each month that passed. Over the years, Northern Auskilde and the lands surrounding the holy Temple of Avarosa had quickly grown into the stronghold of the rebellion, and the nobles were adamant that those lands be "restored" to the Trellian monarchy.

The Council could hardly comprehend that their armies were suffering great losses all across the North, believing that the rebels consisted of nothing but the weak, lower class citizens of both kingdoms. How could they, who lacked the strength to live comfortably, hold their own against the strongest soldiers in the land? Despite how clearly they were proving their strength, their worth, their usefulness and ingenuity, the Council refused to acknowledge them.

They believed that there was only one man of worth in the entire rebellion, the man whom the citizens called the Heart of the Freljord. He was almost as muscular as the Emperor himself and seemed almost unfazed by the persistent cold, running around with most of his upper body bared, befriending beasts and man alike with mystical ease. He carried a shield that everyone claimed could not be broken, supposedly gifted to him by the angel of the fjord, who was concerned for the wellbeing of her people. (Katarina had a very good laugh at that claim, the first one she had for millennia.) As the years crept by, his influence spread, consuming the Auskilde territories like a roaring flame, creeping upon the traditional Trellian borders, a threat that the monarchy had never experienced before.

While it was of a great help to the people, who had more supplies and freedoms than ever before, the explosive atmosphere of the castle had only served to pull Ashe further from her children. If she was not wrapped up in long, pointless meetings, she was overseeing the training of archers or attempting to flee from young assassins-in-training that the Queen set upon her on a daily basis. Her excuse was that they needed the experience more than ever, considering the revolution, and as a reminder of how much power they had over Ashe, they had even locked her children in a prison-cave for two days.

Due to that, both children were left to their own devices more often than not, spending weeks on end in what was essentially solitary confinement. To young Astrid, it was a blessing - a fiercely independent loner, she greatly enjoyed the greater amount of freedom she was accorded when her minders were taken from her and forced onto the battlefield. Sometimes, Ashe would catch glimpses of her daughter training with the soldiers, climbing trees and watch towers, happier than she had ever been in years.

However, Asger was a completely different story. A social, dependent child, he lacked the ice that his sister bore in her heart, the ice that allowed her to thrive in loneliness.

The siren song of death had not ceased, and he called for Katarina's presence more than his mother ever did. She answered whenever she could, attempting to soothe his pain, but there was only so much she could do for him. Growing up with Death was definitely not a healthy thing for any child; it did not take him very long to realize she was not aging, that she was a different being from him. Yet, strangely, he never asked what she was, quietly accepting her presence as if it were ordinary for one to know immortals.

On occasion, with Ashe's approval, Katarina had taken him to see the revolutionaries at work, to see the joy and relief on the faces of the weak that lined up to receive the goods they had obtained. Unlike what his father claimed, Asger saw how useful those supposedly weak people were - they could sew and cook, mend and heal, giving shelter and warmth to the revolutionaries in exchange for their aid.

Everyone who could helped out in whatever way they were able, be it providing information, making a bed, watching over the wounded or joining in the fight. Not a single person was useless, and they supported each other with warmth and determination.

It was no surprise that the ideals of the revolution implanted themselves firmly into the young Prince's heart. Often, disguised by the magic of Death, he would help out where he could, carrying boxes or entertaining the children while their parents were out fighting, something Death hoped would make him appreciate life more. After all, how could one learn to love life from spending time with the god of Death?

Meanwhile, his mother faltered, exhausted by her continuous battles, stumbling into the arms of Death for comfort as her spirit ailed. Her words, once scoffed at or ignored, were now inflammatory and "pro-revolutionary", causing her to spend nights in holding cells when yet another foolish General suspected her of being a spy. Her husband, weary and overwhelmed, could do nothing but nod as his mother barked out a series of increasingly cruel orders, closing himself off to the rest of his family.

It made Katarina's heart ache to see her Princess suffer, but there was little she could do to dissuade her.

" _My Princess, are you certain that you wish to continue the fight?"_ she would murmur into Ashe's hair, arms wrapped securely around her waist.

Often, Ashe would chuckle in response, "Didn't you say you were not going to offer me death anymore?"

She was not sure how to respond to that, and all she could do was brush cold lips across Ashe's forehead and promise to always come when called. It was pathetic, for a god to be reduced to some sort of comfort pet, but for the sake of love, Katarina was willing to take on any role.

Unfortunately, it was not enough to drive away the darkness that choked the castle, and neither Ashe nor Asger could escape its fumes.

Today, too, her Princess was collapsed in her bed, exhausted from more pointless rounds of debate with the angry court, trying to convince them that being kinder to the Avarosans was not a show of weakness. They were adamant that the Avarosans be treated like any other Trellian, sized up based on their strength and punished for attempting to help each other, insisting that it would be an unfair show of favoritism to show them mercy.

"The important thing should be wiping out the revolutionaries," one of the Council members would inevitably sneer, "We have no time to waste on the weak, not that an outsider like you would understand."

They were right, she would not understand, and she would not allow them to stop her so easily. Even though arguing with a brick wall would probably get her better results, she persevered, no matter how many days she spent locked up in a cold, dark prison cave for "suspicious activity". After all, she had no need to fear the dark - it was where Katarina was strongest, and she knew no one could hurt her there.

As news of her predicament spread, the flames of revolution only grew stronger. Alarming numbers of soldiers and palace servants were defecting, providing valuable information on the monarchy's plans and the state of the castle. The Queen and Crown Prince were in open support of the people, fighting in their own ways to aid them, and that fact gave the Heart of the Freljord even more hope to carry on.

"I wish they would storm the castle and get it over with," Ashe huffed, one hand hanging off the edge of the bed to search for Katarina's.

With a small chuckle, she intertwined their fingers, " _Please do not let the court hear that from you."_

"They hate me enough as it is," Ashe agreed, rolling over so she could look Katarina in the eyes, amazed by how much she had come to adore the darkness that swirled within them. "But enough of that. I am very grateful to the revolutionaries, and of course, to you. How did you even manage to do that?"

" _A god has many ways,"_ she mumbled, the vibrant pink of her blush showing plainly on her chalk-white skin. " _I only wish I could have done more."_

Ashe gave Katarina's hand a fierce tug, sending the startled god stumbling to a seat on the edge of her bed. This was more intimacy than they had ever shared before, and Katarina seemed absolutely stunned as arms wrapped warmly around her neck, the most beautiful eyes she had ever seen burning into her own.

"You have done more than enough for me, Katarina," Ashe said sternly, "I could not have hoped for anything more."

Katarina smiled, her hands resting hesitantly around Ashe's waist as she leaned closer, pressing their foreheads together. The difference in temperature nearly made her jolt, and Ashe was forced to remember that the other woman was dead, that she was a god, no matter how sweet and silly she could be.

" _I will always wish to do more,"_ she paused, worrying at her lower lip for a moment before adding, " _If it is for you, Ashe."_

The word sent a shiver up her spine; Ashe had never imagined that her name would ever have such a strong effect on her. But just hearing it from Katarina's mouth, whispered like a prayer, was enough to set butterflies loose in her stomach.

"Oh, Katarina," she murmured, surprised by how natural it felt to use the god's name, "If only I could show you how much that means to me…"

Katarina smiled almost sadly at that, as if there was something she longed to say, but would not. Instead, she merely rested her chin on the crown of Ashe's head, a soft sigh of contentment rumbling through her chest.

* * *

Crown Prince Asger paced the length of the hallway with increasing frustration, impatiently awaiting the royal court to finish its deliberation. He was still not allowed to participate in the debates of the court, his father claiming he was too young and untested, and his mother told him it was better to stay away from that narrow-minded deathtrap.

They would break his spirit, she warned him, the members of the royal court could make him lose faith in his fellow Trellians. Selfishness and superiority complexes ran amok, and everyone was determined to further their interests regardless of the cost.

Asger understood that his mother had his best interests at heart, but how could he help the people if he could not do a thing? What use was a Crown Prince that could not make any decisions, who had been bound and tossed aside like a foolish child, unable to protect his people? He was willing to walk into the lion's den if it meant alleviating the suffering of the citizens of both kingdoms, and if that den was closed off to him…

He would find another that was open, he would find a way that he could help. Even if it meant walking out the gates and turning himself in to the revolutionaries to be used as some sort of bargaining chip against his father, he would not give in.

He had inherited that stubbornness from his mother, after all.

Finally, the door swung open, and the first person out was his grandmother, her face as stern and disapproving as always. Even though age had lined her face, streaked her hair with white and weighed her shoulders down, she was still as intimidating as ever. Asger lowered his head nervously as she stalked by him, not even pausing to acknowledge his presence. It was no secret that she scorned him, the weak, corrupted son of a foreign woman, who could barely even swing a sword straight.

His father was right behind her, face marked by frown lines only deepened by age, and right after came his mother, looking as if not a single day had passed since the day she had been married.

"Mother," he said, aware that the entire court's eyes were burning into him. "Father. I trust that the debate was fruitful?"

His father nodded sharply, looking down at him with that distant, almost bored look that he always wore, "The court has agreed to pass a new resolution to deal with the revolutionaries."

From the look on his mother's face, she greatly disapproved of whatever it was, which meant he would not like it either. Still, he kept his expression impassive as he inquired about the details of the resolution, hoping that it would not be as bad as his mother's pale, drawn lips made it out to be.

"We will be arresting and questioning anyone suspected of receiving aid from the revolutionaries," his father sighed deeply, wringing his hands, "There is bound to be at least one of them who knows where that accursed coward is hiding."

Asger's eyes widened, his heart nearly stopping in his chest - how did anyone think that it would be a good thing to do? How many innocent people were going to be hurt, frightened, kept inside a prison cell when they had done nothing wrong? They were targeting the wrong people, why were the ordinary citizens being punished for crimes that they did not commit?

"The Queen Regent decided it would be the best course of action," his father added, immediately answering all of Asger's questions - his grandmother was indeed a cruel, results-driven woman who would have no qualms hurting thousands of innocent people. "This revolution has caused enough unrest in both Trelleby and Auskilde. Sacrifices must be made for the good of the kingdoms!"

Good of the kingdoms? How was this for the good of the kingdoms? The only ones that were truly benefiting from this were the monarchy, and the nobles that wanted to cling on to their places in the court!

Biting his tongue, Asger said as calmly as he could, "It seems like a rather extreme response, Father."

"You are too young to understand," the Emperor said, and Asger caught the way he looked at his wife, almost accusingly, as if he thought it was by her influence that his son had grown up with the warm heart he possessed. "A good Emperor cannot be distracted by the little details when trying to protect his people."

It took all Asger's effort and self-control to keep his eyes from rolling out of his skull - how was this resolution going to protect the Trellian or Avarosan peoples? Was his father so horribly deluded, or was he just as cruel as the Queen Regent herself?

At the door, the Queen Regent had paused, as if she were listening in on their conversation. She probably was, Asger thought, judging him and finding him horribly lacking because he was not as brainless and cruel as his father. Thinking him weak and foolish because he thought of others aside from himself.

"Father, this will only bring about unnecessary suffering to people who are already in a lot of pain," he protested, ignoring the cutting glares from the other members of the court. "Please reconsider!"

His mother paled visibly at his outburst, her eyes pleading with him to back down and to stay silent, but Asger knew that he could no longer afford to stand back and watch. His mysterious friend with the long silver hair had given him the opportunity to see the true suffering of his citizens with his own eyes, to hear their cries with his own ears, and it was time for him to put that information to good use.

The Emperor frowned deeply, crossing his arms over his chest, "I never thought I would hear words like that from the Crown Prince."

His tone was so flat, Asger could not tell if it were a good thing or not. Was his father thinking of the consequences of his actions, was he truly seeing the weight of his order, or was he deeply disappointed in his only son's kindheartedness?

"Are you siding with the revolutionaries, Prince Asger?" the Queen Regent asked, her voice practically dripping venom.

It would be wiser to give in, to apologize and back away, but Asger just could not bring himself to do it. Many years ago, his mother had taught him that not all battles had to be fought, that running away was not always surrender, but how would he know that he could not win a fight before he even started it?

He would not back down until he got through to his father and reversed this foolish, damaging resolution.

"If thinking of the people constitutes as siding with the revolutionaries, Your Highness, then I suppose I am."

His mother gasped, rushing to his side and grabbing him by the arm as she said, "I am sure he did not mean it that way, Your High-"

Before she could even finish, the Queen Regent had marched over and shoved her aside, sending her stumbling to the ground.

"Mother!" Asger cried, rushing to her side, hating how his father did not even bat an eyelash as his wife was attacked.

If he could not even protect his wife, how could he expect to protect an entire kingdom? Why was his father such a coward, standing there like a stupid statue of an ideal barbarian king instead of doing anything useful?

"This is what you get for letting that woman raise your child," the Queen Regent spat icily, glaring accusingly at her son. "She has turned him into a weak fool, just like her people."

Clenching his fists, Asger met her gaze as squarely as he could, desperately wishing he could look even half as intimidating as his friend. No one in this castle could stand up to her, the one with shadows in her eyes and knives in her hair, the one who turned rooms to ice with her presence alone. But he was not her, he could not hope to be her, he was just a young boy who was so thin that it seemed any true barbarian could snap him in half.

Uncrossing his arms, the Emperor strode over to his son and wife, glaring down at them as he said, "I never imagined that my only son would be brainwashed by the revolutionaries. What would you do next, abolish the monarchy?"

Foolishly, he snapped, "That is what I intend to do! An Emperor should rule for the people, if he fails in that, he should be dethroned!"

 _Slap._

Asger recoiled in shock and pain, cradling his cheek as his mother scrambled to put herself between them. Even now, he thought, she was trying to protect him, even when he was the idiot that had dug his own grave...

"I will not have the hard work of the Trellian royal family invalidated by an outsider!" his father shouted, eyes blazing with rage, "You think too highly of yourself, Asger. From now on, you will no longer be the Crown Prince of Trelleby-Auskilde!"

"Your Majesty, please!" his mother reacted first, grabbing onto his hand, but he merely scoffed and shoved her away from him.

"My mother was right," he said coldly, "You did corrupt my son. Very well, he is your son now, so I will take back the titles that belong to me!"

That was the breaking point. Asger did not mind being looked down upon, he did not mind being thought of as a stupid child, but he could not stand watching his mother get abused. What kind of man would speak with such icy contempt to his wife, to the mother of his children, to the woman that had supported him for so many years? What kind of man would think birthrights something he could take as he pleased?

If Asger was no longer the Crown Prince, if he could no longer become the Emperor and help the suffering masses… then his life was useless to him.

With a feral scream, he flung himself at his father, a familiar blade glinting in his hands. He heard his mother cry out at the sight of it - a ruby red hilt, decorated with ornate gold patterns. His friend had told him that it was a knife that had seen much death, a knife that would never fail in its purpose as long as it struck, and Asger was relying on it.

Unfortunately for him, his father was an experienced fighter, grabbing him by the arm and throwing him across the room as if he weighed no more than a pillow.

"Disappointing," the Emperor said with a shake of his head, "Guards, take him away. Treason and attempted regicide are not crimes to be taken likely in this kingdom."

"Your Majesty, please!"

"Silence!"

Asger could only watch in horror as his father struck his mother across the face, the force of the blow sending her reeling. At the corner of his eye, the shadows rippled - his friend, he recognized, forcibly contained by the mysterious rules that governed life and death, despite how much she longed to help.

" _There is only so much I can do,"_ she had told him when he took the knife from her, " _For life and death are fields that should cross only once."_

"You have done more than enough for my family," he had smiled, tightening his grip around the blade, "It is time for me to do my part."

He had been so certain, then, that he would succeed, no matter what the outcome was. Yet, when push came to shove, he was unable to do a thing, helpless and weak just like his father thought he was.

The darkness was growing, it was swallowing the kingdom he loved and hurting the people he cared about, yet all he could do was lie panting on the floor, aching from a single blow. His father was not suited to be a king, but nor was he - they were both too weak, too foolish, relying too heavily on the help of others to get through the day.

" **Enough!** "

Startled, everyone in the room turned to look at him as he got up on shaky legs, the knife clutched tight in his trembling hands. He had failed, he had failed, the world was going to sink and there was nothing he could do to save it.

He had no place to return to anymore, he had thrown it all away in a surge of foolish heroism that failed to pay off. The reason he had lived for all those painful years, in one fell swoop it had been wrenched away from him.

There was no point in living anymore.

"I'm sorry, Mother," he whispered, and before anyone could process what he meant to do, Asger plunged the blade into his throat.

Strangely, there was no pain, only an all-consuming cold that swallowed him whole. The world around him faded to black, and from the shadows, his old friend appeared.

She was smiling at him, but it did not quite reach her eyes. " _So, you have finally arrived, little Prince."_

"I should have known you were the god of death," he said lightly, looking down at the knife in his hand. "I always thought you were an angel."

" _An angel?"_ she chuckled faintly, holding a hand out to him expectantly. " _I am anything but."_

Without hesitation, he returned the knife to her, "To me, you were a guardian, the best friend I could have ever had. You were the brightest angel of all the heavens."

She smiled sadly, " _But I failed to save you."_

Failed to save him? Asger was incredulous - she had saved him, she had offered him the hope that had helped him live for the past seven years. She had given him the knife which he had used to escape from a horrible fate in the dungeons, and now she was going to send him into the peaceful darkness where he could hide from his failures.

"If you do feel that way, that there is something you need to make up to me," he said, meeting her gaze earnestly, "Then please, save my mother the way you saved me."

The god stared quietly at the knife, her fingers slowly curling around it as she said, " _I will, little Prince. I swear it on the name of Death."_

* * *

The death of the Crown Prince spread through the kingdom like wildfire, the circumstances of his final moments in hot debate. Had he been struck down trying to heroically break into the royal court? Had he been taken down by guards attempting to free captured citizens, to save revolutionaries that his father had tortured?

Had the boy faced his warrior father, young and inexperienced though he was, and gotten cut down where he stood? Or had he turned his blade upon himself in great despair when he failed to convince the royal court to take mercy on his fellow citizens?

Only one fact remained unquestionable, and that was the fact that the young Prince had been a supporter of the revolution. He had died for their sake, choosing to fight a headlong battle he had not the strength for, instead of the long game of words and promises that his mother had been playing for years. Despite having been captured by the enemy and forced to bow to them, Ashe had managed to raise her son with a heart that beat for his people, a heart that bore the light of Avarosa that showed clearly in his features.

The Avarosan spirit could not be crushed, the only way to stop them was to take their lives away. The Avarosan spirit was one of love, but not one of weakness, and the Prince's death was the tipping point that caused almost the entire army to defect to the revolution's side. On top of that, Astrid, horrified by the death of her brother and by the cruelty of the family she had been ignoring, immediately and very publicly raised her sword against her father.

Holed up in the castle with nothing but nobles, the Emperor and Queen Regent were trapped like rats, aware that they had nowhere to run and nothing they could do but attempt to fight the advancing horde to the death. Unlike her brother, Astrid was strong, sneaky and independent, and it did not take her long to open the castle gates to the invaders, unseen, from the inside.

The Empress, however, was in a horrible state over the death of her son - she had refused to raise her bow and join her daughter, instead whispering that she had a date with Death before locking herself in her room. Her mind had been shattered, her heart had ceased to beat the moment she laid her son in his coffin, her husband stony-faced and cold behind her.

Everything she had fought for, everything she had tried to find, it had all slipped like sand between her fingers. The joy and freedom she had desired... could not be found in this world. It was a fact she had been struggling to deny from the moment she returned from the gates of hell, one that she was finally ready to accept. Her son was gone, her people were suffering, and all she wanted to do was to be horribly selfish and throw herself into the depths of darkness.

For days, the streets were rife with fighting, as the few remaining soldiers loyal to the Emperor tried their best to defend him. Many of them were the South Freljordian children he had taken from their families, those the Queen Regent had raised on a strict diet of brainwashing as she had her own son, and the fighting was fierce and bloody. They could not be reasoned with, even by their own family members, and it was with a heavy heart that the revolutionary army struck them down, turning the ice a brilliant scarlet.

When the revolutionaries finally raided the castle, marching the Emperor, Queen Regent and members of the royal court to the dungeons, the Empress was already dead.

They found her in her bed, curled up as if she were laying in the embrace of a lover, an ornate knife sunk deep into her heart. She had died with a gentle smile on her face.


	6. Epilogue

_During the Invasion_

Katarina had never felt more conflicted in her life, or unlife, whatever her existence was to be called. What she longed for was just at the tips of her fingers, the woman she had chased after for so many years teetering on the edge of falling into her eternal embrace, yet…

Part of her didn't want it.

Not when she was clearly in so much pain, shedding silent tears into her pillow as the siren song of death blared around them.

" _Oh, my Queen,"_ she whispered softly, running gentle fingers through Ashe's blonde hair, which had remained completely unaffected by the march of time and the strain of stress, as if her body had been frozen in that moment she was brought back to life. " _My chest aches to see you suffer so."_

Ashe turned to look up at her, reaching out for her with outstretched arms like a child seeking comfort. Katarina obliged, pulling her warm body flush against her, guilt squirming in the pit of her stomach. It was her fault that Ashe was suffering so, she was the one who had taken her beloved son's life away. She should have known better than to let Asger take the knife, even though by the law of death, it was his right to have.

She could have stopped him, but would that have done anything in the long run? The shadows in Asger's heart had been planted shortly after he was born, and they were choking at him every single day. From the day she met him, Katarina knew it, that this boy was a soul that could not escape the shackles of his agony. Death had been release for him, a safety blanket for him to escape from a world that had never shown him kindness, yet...

Yet…

"Don't blame yourself," Ashe croaked, as if she had read Katarina's mind, "None of this was your fault."

" _Oh, but it was,"_ she said softly, " _For if I had not broken the law and returned you to this world, you would not have had to suffer for as long as you have."_

"But I asked for it, did I not?" Ashe made a weak, watery laugh, "I can hardly blame you for honoring a wish I made."

What a strong woman she was, Katarina thought as she looked into those burning eyes, even when everything was crumbling, she refused to crack and fall. She took tragedy on with the refined aura of the Queen she was, refusing to let it change her, twist her into a monster.

" _I…"_

Ashe laughed again, a little stronger this time, "To think you were after my death for so many years, yet when the time comes, you flounder and reconsider."

" _I… did not want things to turn out this way,"_ she admitted hoarsely, pressing her forehead against Ashe's, savoring the difference in temperature for what might be the final time. " _All I wanted was for you to love me…"_

For a moment, Ashe had only stared at her incredulously, before bursting out in riotous laughter. It sounded almost as if she had lost her mind, and Katarina was stunned into frozen silence as she tried to figure out what was so funny about her words.

"Idiot," Ashe murmured, leaning so close that her breath fanned out over Katarina's lips, "I have loved you from the day you inspired me to save my son."

Before the stunned god could process her words, or find an appropriate reaction, Ashe's lips were warm against her own, gentle and loving and apologetic at the same time.

"I've made you wait," she whispered as she pulled away, "And what for? A life I did not want, a life of pain and suffering."

Suddenly, Katarina felt a hard tug at her soul, as if someone had taken something that belonged to her. Ashe smiled, holding out a hand to her, and to her surprise, the blade of death appeared in the palm of her hand.

That was not supposed to happen, a human was not supposed to be capable of wrenching the knife from her grasp. It was for her to give, to leave out waiting for the soul that played the siren song of death and despair, not one that could be stolen out from under her nose like a trinket.

What did this mean, had Ashe been granted a firmer grip on the world of darkness and its ruler merely because she had once visited it? No mortal had ever died and returned from the depths during Katarina's reign, so she had no experience to fall back on.

"Will it be alright if I say yes now, my love?" Ashe asked, the words soft and sweet and apologetic, scrambling Katarina's insides in a way that only she could.

" _If that is what you wish for,"_ she said hoarsely, leaning closer so their noses were brushing, " _The gates of my kingdom will always be open to you."_

Everything I have is yours, she wanted to say, but would Ashe want any of it? She was the Emperor of Darkness, ruler over a land of shadows and regrets, a dark land where the broken roam in tears, where the sinful are punished, and only those who were kind in life bask in the warmth and light. It was a sad land, one with a dedicated endless playground for the children who had died young, full of adventures for them to eternally embark on, forever denied the chance of growing up…

It was not a kingdom anyone would fight to lay claim to, its throne weighted down with dark, painful jobs.

The Emperor was to welcome the dead at the kingdom's gates, to judge their soul and to choose where they would be sent. The Emperor was to answer the cry for death's arms made in the world of the living, to judge their sincerity and to leave them the knife, a key to the kingdom they longed for. The Emperor was to abandon their names and titles from whatever life they might have had before, and to take on the name of Death.

Would Ashe really be alright with this?

"Don't look so worried," Ashe scolded, bringing her out of her thoughts, "I will stay with you, no matter how tough times may get. Haven't you already done so for me?"

Katarina blushed; had she really been that obvious? " _Death is a different sort of hardship, one that will never end."_

"Then I will support you for eternity," Ashe replied, without missing a beat.

How did she do that, Katarina wondered, rendering people speechless by saying such meaningful things as if they were nothing at all? Was it because she was a human, a finite existence, that had never once been forced to grapple with the concept of eternity?

Death was more than just immortal, it was infinite, it was endless, and if Katarina did not fail in her job in a way that demanded she be destroyed, she would be escorting the dead for the ages to come. Kingdoms would rise and fall, the oceans and seas would divert their flow, the land would warp and twist, yet she would remain there, the constant in an ever-changing world.

Though, she supposed, should Ashe ever express regret or exhaustion in the eternity that stretched ahead, Katarina would have the power to grant her rest…

"Really," Ashe scolded, tapping her nose, "I never knew you were such an overthinker."

Katarina laughed at the annoyance in her voice, " _I apologize, Ashe. I just… really want you to be happy."_

"Then let me stay with you," she whispered, slowly unsheathing the knife.

Forcing herself to keep her gaze steady, Katarina watched as Ashe pressed the blade into her own chest, eyes never once leaving hers.

" _Your wish shall be granted."_

The blade bit deeply, and Katarina heard the sigh of relief Ashe's soul made as it slipped back into the world of darkness.

* * *

Asger sat quietly at the gate to the kingdom, watching as more unwilling souls were shuffled through. It did not surprise him any longer to see multiples of his friend - a god with as many duties as Death surely had enough magic to create illusions of herself.

He knew they were illusions, not clones, because they lacked that soul-chilling cold that she emanated whenever she was near. If he tried to reach out for her, he was sure that his fingers would phase through her skin.

As each face passed him, he scanned them carefully, recognizing a few too many among them. Servants and guards of the palace, revolutionaries he had secretly watched, all these familiar ghouls were marched past him, giving him an idea of what was going on in the kingdom he hated. War, all out war - had it been brought about by his death? He longed to approach them, to ask them, but he refused to shift from his post.

What was he doing, scanning the faces of the dead instead of enjoying the afterlife he had so desperately longed for? The warm, endless fields of adventure that awaited him were tempting, but… there were some people whose unknown fates were eating away at him.

His father, his grandmother, what had happened to them? Had the revolution failed, or had they been captured and were being made to stand in some sort of trial? Would they come through those gates at any moment, judged sinners and hauled screaming to their eternal punishment?

A sudden, familiar cold descended over the gates, the illusions slipping out of existence just as they swung open. An eerie, hauntingly beautiful song began to spiral into the sky - announcing the homecoming of their Emperor.

Asger sprang to his feet as his friend approached, but froze in place as he saw the woman trailing behind her.

His mother.

She was more radiant than he had ever seen her, smiling in a way he never knew she could, hanging off Death's arm with more intimacy than he ever imagined they shared. And though he was sad to see that his mother was dead, he knew… that she had been saved, just as he had, by the welcoming arms of darkness.

"Mother!" he called out, "Oh, Mother!"

The expression on her face softened as she ran to him, wrapping him up in a fierce hug that brought him back to the early days of his childhood.

"My son," she whispered, "I am so sorry for failing you, for causing you so much pain…"

Shaking his head, Asger said, "It wasn't your fault, Mother. You did what you could, and I am grateful for that."

Shifting his gaze to the woman behind her, he added, "And I am grateful to you, too, my old friend. You have done what I asked of you and more."

Death's smile was almost shy, like that of a young child that was not accustomed to receiving praise or gratitude. Pulling away, his mother was carefully looking him over, obviously delighted to find him unharmed.

"Where are you headed?" she asked him, one hand lingering on his, as if she could hardly believe he was there. Turning to Death, she asked, "Can he join us?"

" _It is up to him, my love,"_ Death replied, " _For he has already been granted an eternity of respite in the fields of the young."_

"That…" his mother looked torn, looking back at him with sad eyes, "That sounds wonderful, Asger. You would be able to roam the way you never could in Trelleborg."

"But, Mother-"

She cut him off, gripping his shoulder firmly, "I have asked enough of you, my son. I am sure you have had enough of palaces. Chase the sun to your heart's content - we are still in the same world. We could always meet again."

Death nodded in agreement, " _You could show her your discoveries in the fields, if it would please you. There are many wonders there that even I do not know."_

Asger swallowed, wondering what he should do. His mother was right, he had long tired of the suffocating nature of palaces, with their endless stone walls and rules. If they could easily meet again, then it would be fine for him to… to try and do what he wanted, right?

There were thousands of other children in the fields, and many of them welcomed him without a second thought. He no longer had to be lonely, and he would still be able to meet his mother - what else could he ask for?

"Alright," he nodded, taking his mother's hand, "I will see you again soon, Mother. I wish you well."

"I wish you well," she echoed, her eyes shining with unshed tears, "I hope that you will find your happiness."

Death had moved over to wrap an arm around his mother's shoulders, and he smiled as he watched her lean into the touch.

"And it seems you have found yours."

Smiling, she nodded, "Indeed, I have."

What a strange story this was, Asger thought, as he watched them enter the gates to the palace of darkness. Despite ending in death, it was overflowing with joy, with relief, with warmth; it was a happy ending concealed in the depths of shadows.

 **A/N: If anyone is interested, I was thinking of hosting an Elisabeth stream, but I'm not sure anyone really is...**

 **I hope that this story was enjoyable, and thank you for joining me on this journey! I treasure all your reviews dearly.**

 **Haruka**


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